


Damara: Use bucket

by oncewewerezombies



Series: Homesmut fills [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Humiliation, Rough Oral Sex, Slurs, Xeno, kind of guro thoughts, little bit body horror ideation, slurry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5072017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original prompt: So fanon is that trolls ejaculate a LOT when they come. My theory is that this makes coming on a partner's face even more of an insult than it is in human culture, leaving the one on the receiving end absolutely soaked in genetic material. To get to the porn part, the troll of your choice ties up their kismesis (troll or human, don't care) and jerks their bulge while taunting their partner with some really filthy shit before coming all over their face. Make it really humiliating for the person getting it, please.</p><p>Now with terribly translated hover text.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damara: Use bucket

The only time Kankri was tolerable was when his mouth was occupied with something else, like your bulge. Just for an example. Right now, his mouth is wide open and free to flap, and he was doing just that. Whining. You have been very careful with your rope work, and his insinuations that just because you can’t speak Common Beforan fluently you are somehow deficient when it came to one of your own country’s erotic arts, are infuriating. Then, there is a lot about him that is. He is a mouthy, ridiculous. Slut. Always acting like he is too good to even dream about a pail. No, what was the stupid term he had used once - a genetic material collection tool. When really, what he wanted was to be turned into a bucket and forced down into the gutter with everyone else. Because he knew that was where he belonged.

Sitting back on your heels, you take a moment to consider your foolish kismesis who had let you tie him up this way. He looks nice tied up in ropes of your rust colour and without that hideous sweater that Porrim had knitted covering up his chest and arms. Encased in diamond shapes that mimicked a stoneshellbeast’s hard casing, with his hands behind his back and ankles tied to his thighs, only dressed in his stupid leggings that reach up above his waist but leave his top grubscars bare. A nice parcel.

Pity it wasn’t silent yet.

“-you really should consider how this could be considered appropriative and triggering to a lot of trolls, Damara. Removing the ability of full movement from a physically capable troll, forcing them to perhaps mimic or appear as a differently abled troll for your own sexual gratification is quite reprehensible. As your kismesis, I’m only obligated to make sure that you are aware of this, as of course, I’m sure you didn’t realise due to your unfamiliarity with broader Beforan culture and its social mores regarding issues of this nature. Trigger warning for discussion of disabilities, handicaps, potentially cull-worthy traits, erotic simulations and -mmph!”

A hand over his mouth isn’t the same as a bulge, but it will do. For now, anyway. You are about to rectify the situation and get on with your quest to make sure that he hates himself just as much as you hate him.

“Shut your whore mouth,” you suggest pleasantly, and feel him try to talk behind your palm. The time for Kankri’s immeasurable whinings was far over. This is your time, and you will show him how a troll should behave. “私は私のお尻の下にうごめくものを感じることができます. あなたの口はたわごとを吐きます.” Hiking your short skirt up around your waist, you move upwards to straddle his face. Sock-covered knees press against the sides of his head, and with a sigh, you lower yourself down. As aggressive as he could be when he spoke, he was weak inside and almost a failure in pitch. He would never bite you on your nook, and you both knew it – while you had bitten him, when he’d tried to do something like this back to you. 

He’d never tried it again, and you scorned him for it. So weak. Such failure.

“私はあなたの利己的なナンセンスを聞くのがとても疲れています.” You grind yourself down on his face, feeling his gasping against the sensitive tissues of your nook. It’s a nice feeling, while his nose is nudging the bottom of your bulgesheath. Maybe you were both dead, and neither needed to breathe anymore, but the mind still thought the body did need it, panicked at the prospect of air starvation in those deep hind parts that had no integration into conscious thinking. “仕事に取り掛かります。あなたは一度のためにあなたの舌で何か良いことを行います.” Your bulge unfurls with a heavy slap against his face and you start to rock. Undo the buttons of your shirt with one hand, flicking them open with your thumb so he can see your rumblespheres, the edges of your grublegs. The sight makes his eyes go wide for a moment, and you enjoy the lust you can reduce him to, despite his sanctimonious ravings. “私はあなたがそれを行うようになります.”

Holding your pleated skirt up, you can watch as your bulge slides across his white eyes which flinchingly close. Genematerial dirties his face as his tongue finally starts to work, sliding up the slit of your nook. “Lazy,” you tell him, and bare your teeth. You wish your teeth were bigger, sharper. They were wasted on the high bloods of your session, you would have made a bigger, better monster than they. “You say I lazy for not learning common Beforan. I say, get fucked in lazy bulgehungry wastechute of mind.” His tongue is a warm coal of a thing, slippery and not long enough, teasing at the entrance to your nook. It’s not enough. You’re happy to let it continue to tease for now, as you mess up his face with a little bit of bioslime, your bulge trying to find a way inside his closed eyes to fuck his sockets.

You wonder if it would be empty inside his pan, whether your bulge would twine lovingly into a gaseous space where he formed his nonsensical barrage of words once it slipped around and past the barrier of his eye. Emptyheaded little mutant. Soft cullbait. You wonder sometimes how you ever found Kankri by himself, and no Porrim lurking with her, oh what had he called it, pale manipulations. You had never understood what there could possibly be to pity in the Insufferable.

Hate is easy. And he is nothing like Rufioh, but still attractive enough to fuck, somehow. Maybe that is the hate clouding your pan, because he is still a soft wiggler who thinks he knows everything there is to know and is wrong about everything that matters.

“You lazy for not try to understand. Or learn. Preaching endlessly, but never say anything worth scrape of slurry.” You run your hands through his curled hair, rub your fingers over the nubs of his horn. So rounded, so useless. He really is such a failure of a kismesis; what does that say about you, when you hate him so? He makes outraged sounds into your nook, and you trill breathlessly in response, chirring in arousal as your bulge leaves even more rusty goop on his gray skin, leaking into his hair. He was going to be a mess. He’d hate it. He’d hate it so much. 

“馬鹿。私にとってはとても空腹。それを食べます.”

Grind and rock, feeling his tongue lick inside now, riding the dullness of his teeth and enjoying the little spark of pain. For once, he is going to listen to you. He is going to listen to you, and hear exactly what you think. Maybe he wouldn’t understand it, but that wasn’t the point. You were going to say it, and not be interrupted for once, or talked over or condescended to. The thought was almost as electrifying as the thought of your bulge choking him and sliding down his throat into his aeration sacks. Fucking him in every squishy part and secret hollow of his irrelevant body. Maybe you should cut open a hole to fuck. It would serve him right if you did that, for making himself so vulnerable to his kismesis, to someone who hated him so purely.

“You so full of no use wordshit. Eat slurry, make proper use of worthless mouth for once.” He whines against the soft places between your legs before you slide down a little more, and you reach down to hook his exposed mouth open wider and push the curved tip of your claw into the vulnerable inside of his cheek. Soft and wet inside, like a peach. Juicy. All ready for fucking. He gargles something around your thumb as his saliva goes a deeper red with his blood, and you grin down at him. “Open big useless squawk hole, like good bucket.”

Because he is weak and you are strong with what Meenah did to you before you died, how she made sure your heart was not only shattered by Rufioh and Horuss but obliterated by her cruelty, he opens his big mouth wider. Obedient for once. “You make good filial pail,” you tell him, almost kindly, and pat his rounded cheek as your bulge winds its way between his lips and to the back of his throat. Squirming across his tongue, looking for the sphincter of an entrance to a genematerial sack, for the place where it should be putting your slurry.

This is wrong in all good ways, a desecration of slurry and a waste of good hate pheromones. It is rebellious and traitorous to the Empire that was, but the Empire doesn’t matter any more, hasn’t since Meenah detonated her bomb and killed you all. Destroyed your reality, to make a new one that had failed in its own spectacular way. Trolls were useless as fuck, it seemed. Useless then, useless now. Now you only fritter away eons of time on more useless as shit things.

“それは私を信頼するように愚かです,” you sigh, while your bulge squeezes its way down his throat in search of something that isn’t there. He thrashes underneath you, and tears run from his eyes. With the hem of your skirt tucked into your waistband, you have both hands free to keep his mouth open and stretched. He looks stupid, foolish, and you know that his bulge is writhing uselessly against his leggings while yours fucks his throat. Nice and warm in there with the heat of his freak blood. Squeezes nicely around you as he gargles and chokes, body insistent in its need to breathe despite your mutual deaths. 

“This is what mutant should use mouth for,” you inform him. Push his lips further apart with your thumbs, roll them up so you can see his teeth to the root of them, and you can almost hear the furious words forming in his thinkpan to be fired at you. Trigger, trigger, trigger. Classist. Hemocastist. You thrust and try to rub your nook against the rounded point of his chin, pushing your thick bulge even deeper down his throat so his eyes almost pop out of his head and the sound he makes is truly beautiful. “Shhh. Only bulgeslut now. No trying to make better change to troll nature, only holes for bulge and licker of nook.” You smile, and lift one hand to rub at his horns and he almost convulses at the crosscurrent between pitch and faux pity. You chirr and chirp with satisfaction as his head falls back and lets you get even deeper into his throat. You are kneeling above him now, not sitting on his chest, feeding your bulge straight down, and starting to wonder if you really will reach his oxygenating sponges.

“Is easier for you, candy freak, like this. Shhh. Suck, eat slurry. Suck bulge, eat nook, spread legs for fucking. Shhhhh.” The rubbing at his horns seems to put him into something like a trance and he’s moaning around your bulge. You still haven’t gotten to spread his nook yet, and you’re burning for it. For some reason, this is fine with his celibacy vow. If you get off and he does not. If you use his mouth, and abstain from filling his nook or chute. It is stupid, he is dumb and a big hypocrite and you want to fuck him properly. Soon. You promise yourself you will do it soon. “Whore. Pail for highbloods.” Oh _oh_ , that got a response, his long eyelashes fluttering and a strong suck around your tentabulge. Pursing your lips, you raise an eyebrow and lift one hand up to rub at your grubscars, feeling things getting hotter and tighter in every part of your body.

“Mmm? You don’t like my lowblood bulge pounding your mouth? Want some highclass slurry to suck up? Life is disappointment for everyone, Kankri.” You pull at his hair hard, twisting the coarse strands around your fingers until he’s sobbing around you, throat gagging and cheeks streaked with pink tears. You bet he’s about to cum, and you wonder if you can make him. But he always disappears for cycles when you do that. It is fine as long as you cum, but he does not, as long as you both follow his stupid rules that he has set up so he can rationalize breaking his celibacy for this. Like he isn’t really breaking his vows at all. Ugh. He is so dumb. It’s not like you care, they’re not your vows, but this whole thing is so stupid, he should just let you fuck his nook. You bet he would be addicted to it once he felt you up inside him just once. 

"虚偽雌犬。私は私のコックを使用して愚かな口を埋めるのが大好き.”

This is the best way to have Kankri. Mute, his mouth full of bulge and stoppered from spouting useless hoofbeast shit. The worst things, he says. Stupid things. He has no idea what actual pain is like, he has never had his heart broken or wanted for anything. Soft sheltered cullbait with such a big pretty mouth. “You are better pail than preacher,” you murmur, and ride his throat like it can take it, like a nook was meant to. “Should make full use of my pail. Fuck your mutantblood whore hole like highblood fuck Empire. Maybe I get highblood for you, Kankri, would it be good for you? Suck rust bulge, get coldblood tentacle right up your candy freak nook until it tickles your shameglobes?”

That’s it, you’re done, you’re orgasming, you’ve reached trollvana. It is the look on his face, the way his eyes widen and you can almost feel his body tighten into a needy knot at the idea of being taken at both ends, this is what sets you off. You pour your slurry down his throat and moan out a high-pitched and satisfied trill. Wasting your rusty slurry in his mouth and across his face, using him as your bucket. Like he was a pail, something inanimate to receive your genematerial. Groaning a little as your bulge retracts out of his mouth and into your sheath, you dismount and flop down next to him.

Breathe for a moment, and enjoy it.

Of course, he can’t let you do that. It’s almost amazing to you, how quickly he gets his breath back and starts complaining about the fact that he is now rust-coloured from eyebrows to shoulders. As if that is the worst you can do. In fact, you see it as an invitation. Smirking, you lift yourself up on one elbow and wriggle closer, almost shoving your rumblespheres in his face.

“Damara, Damara, no,” he chokes out as you purse your lips to mimic a quackbird and flash a wide victory signal with two spread fingers on one hand as you cuddle up to him despite the slurry coating his skin and the ends of his hair. With the other hand, you’re holding up your mobile datadevice, with the selfie setting on. You can see his horrified expression and your gloating one paired together on the tiny screen, your shirt open and flaunting your heftsacks while he’s covered in what’s obviously the sloppy aftermath of a decadent oral pailing. You look like a satisfied customer and he looks like a well-pailed concupiscent whore. Is nice. You will value this picture for a long time.

“Damara, _yes_ ,” you purr, and your grin gets even wider as you take your trophy picture despite his strident protest.

Is good pic. You use it to selfpail later while Kankri is not speaking to you. That is fine; he can’t go very long without a nice dose of indulgent hate. And just maybe, you will be able to find someone to fill in for the highblood in that fantasy of his about getting stuffed in both ends at once. 

You wouldn’t want anyone to say you didn’t give your kismesis exactly what he never asked for.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Damara: Give your kismesis what he never asked for](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5309372) by [oncewewerezombies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncewewerezombies/pseuds/oncewewerezombies)




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